The Sanctuary

The Sanctuary Sermon for 1/11/26

“When the Wine Runs Out” John 2:1-10

As this year is a fairly new one still finding us doing some first things; today we find ourselves looking in as Jesus performs the first miracle of his ministry at Cana, turning water into wine. It’s a passage that we’re all familiar with, yet as we are making our way into this new year, I think that there are a few things that we can pull out and questions to ask that may help us on our way.

Let’s look at our text.

On the third day a wedding took place at Cana in Galilee. Jesus’ mother was there, 2 and Jesus and his disciples had also been invited to the wedding. 3 When the wine was gone, Jesus’ mother said to him, “They have no more wine.”

4 “Woman, why do you involve me?” Jesus replied. “My hour has not yet come.”

5 His mother said to the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.”

6 Nearby stood six stone water jars, the kind used by the Jews for ceremonial washing, each holding from twenty to thirty gallons.

7 Jesus said to the servants, “Fill the jars with water”; so they filled them to the brim.

8 Then he told them, “Now draw some out and take it to the master of the banquet.”

They did so, 9 and the master of the banquet tasted the water that had been turned into wine. He did not realize where it had come from, though the servants who had drawn the water knew. Then he called the bridegroom aside 10 and said, “Everyone brings out the choice wine first and then the cheaper wine after the guests have had too much to drink; but you have saved the best till now.” Advance

“I need to go make a run.” That’s code in our house that means we’ve run out of libations and need to go get some more. Twenty minutes later, voila; I have more. 

I was wondering last week if that’s how we sometimes hear this passage. I wonder if that’s how we sometimes expect Jesus to act in our lives. There’s a problem to be fixed. “They have no wine,” we tell Jesus. And voila, somehow, he makes more so the celebration can continue.

But is that really enough? Is a refill all we want? Do we just want to ‘fix’ the problem and go on with the same old life in the same old way? Here’s my confession. “Yes.” Sometimes that’s exactly what I want. I just want the problem to be fixed and go away so I can get on with my life. As the quote we’ve all heard says, “Most people don’t want their life to change, they just want some magic.”

I suspect we all, at some point in our lives, just want some magic. We want Jesus to show up, wave the divine wand, and make it all better. They have no wine, abracadabra, now they do. But that’s not who Jesus is and that’s not what the gospel or Christianity are about. 

You see, in some way, magic keeps us from God and from life. It prevents us from encountering the new, the possible, the unforeseen. It entertains but it doesn’t transform or change life. A magical reading of the text leaves us wondering if it really happened. What’s his next trick? Hey Rocky, watch me pull a rabbit out of my hat! How did he do that we wonder, rubbing our chins.

Water does not turn into wine. Have you ever seen that happen? Have you ever done it? No, you haven’t and neither have I. And it’s not because we aren’t Jesus, but because there is no magic in this world, only illusion. 

Today’s account asks us to move from magical thinking about our lives to looking for and seeing the miraculous.

And the question behind every miracle story is this—What does it mean for us? What possibilities does this story raise for our lives and for the world in this new year?

I don’t doubt for a moment that Jesus literally and physically turned water into wine. I believe that. But then I don’t think that’s the point of this passage. I don’t think this story is ultimately about turning water into wine.

It’s about more than that. It’s about calling forth life where there is none. It’s about transformation. It’s about living a new life. The text itself gives us two hints that suggest this. 

First, the story happens, “on the third day.” What does that make you think of? What happens on the third day? Resurrection, a new life, a new beginning, a rebirth.

The second hint is, “There was a wedding.” Again, this is about a new life—two people coming together to create and live a new life, to change and be changed by each other, and to open themselves to unknowable possibilities and an unforeseeable future. 

All that makes me wonder; maybe running out of wine is not a problem to be fixed, but the beginning of something new. Maybe it’s a calling into a new life or an invitation into more life. Nobody likes to run out of wine, but maybe it’s necessary for our growth and maturity. And that can be difficult, unsettling, and sometimes painful. 

I’m not talking about times when we have to decide whether we will see the glass as half empty or half full. I’m talking about those times in life when the glass is dry, the vat is empty, the celebration is over, and we’re dying of thirst. 

And who here doesn’t know what that’s like? We’ve all been there. We run out of wine. Our life is empty, colorless, tasteless. Nothing is growing or fermenting in us. There’s no vibrancy or bouquet to life. Or maybe we still have wine but it has turned to vinegar, gone sour, and we can no longer stand to drink what’s in our cup. Either way, the wine has given out. 

When has the wine run out for you? Are there parts of your life that are dry and empty today? In what ways has life become sour or colorless and tasteless? This isn’t only about us, however. We can see and name other people who “have no wine” and places in which “the wine gave out.” It’s happens in our lives, our institutions, our country, and our world. 

I’m not talking about cabernet or chardonnay. I’m talking about the new wine of the Holy Spirit. About relationship, love and happiness; the new wine of meaning, purpose, and direction; the new wine of vitality, passion, and enthusiasm; the new wine of youth, strength, and health; the new wine of belief, trust, and faith; the new wine of mercy and forgiveness, the new wine of peace, joy, and security; the new wine of dignity; the new wine of hospitality and welcome; the new wine of truth, certainty, and answers. 

When the wine gives out, life is dying on the vine, and we are no longer intoxicated by a Holy Spirit. We may not have said it in the same way, but we’ve all echoed Mary’s words for ourselves, for another, for the world. “They have no wine.” 

I’ve said those words to Jesus, haven’t you? “I’ve got no wine. I’m running on empty, Lord.” Every prayer of petition is telling Jesus about where the wine has run out. Sadly, more often than not, we tell Jesus exactly what kind of wine we need; a nice cabernet, not too dry, with a hint of berries and chocolate. Mary, however, doesn’t do that. 

Mary does not set out any expectations. She doesn’t tell Jesus what to do. She offers no suggestions about the wine they need.

The key is: She just names the reality. She lets the reality of the situation call to and invite Jesus to respond.

Mary is simply holding open the door for something to happen, the door to a new possibility, the door to a new life, the door of hope. Isn’t that really what we are doing every time we pray? We’re holding open the door to our life, another’s life, the life of the world, and hoping Jesus will walk through and do something. “They have no wine, Jesus.”

And here’s the hard part about life when the wine gives out: Jesus just might show up and do something, or he might not—at least in the way we expect. There is no certainty about what will happen, no guarantees. You know that as well as I. We’ve all offered our prayers. Sometimes they get answered like we want, sometimes they don’t. And sometimes it’s something we hoped for but never could’ve imagined. Other times it’s different from what we wanted, and maybe we don’t even want what shows up. There’s a reason for that saying, “Be careful what you pray for.” 

I can’t make you any promises about what will happen when the wine of your life runs out. I have no definite answers. But I know we have a part to play in the possibility of this miracle. Jesus did not do this by himself. Mary declared the need, the emptiness, “They have no wine.” The servants poured the water. The chief steward tasted, recognized, and named the good wine, the new life. Those are our parts too. We play those parts for ourselves, for each other, for the world. 

Sometimes we need to be Mary and name the empty and dry places even when we don’t know how they will be filled up. “Lord, they have no food, no stability, no security.” “Lord, I have no vision or direction for my life, I need new wine.” “Lord, their health is poor, they have no money, no safety.” “Lord, they have no wine.” Sometimes we need to be the ones to carry and pour water even when we can’t see that it’s making a difference. Sometimes we need to be the chief steward naming and recognizing new life, helping others taste the new wine.

Opening the door to Jesus is always a risk. We invite a response not knowing and having no control over what the response will be, or if there will even be one. We’re gambling that God is just as faithful and hopeful as we are, even more so. We’re wagering that the future to come is worth more, and that the coming life is larger and better, than the empty glasses that litter our lives.

I’ll take that bet. Won’t you?

When the master of the ceremony tasted the new wine he called the bridegroom over and said of the wine, “You have saved the best till now.”

If you’re running on empty this morning, know that the Lord is waiting to fill your life and all that it holds with new wine. Confess your need and just ask.

He has saved the best till now.

This is the Word of the Lord for the day.

Amen.